


Murphy's Wedding Laws

by CalamityCain



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Cake, Disasters, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Murphy's Law, Romance, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: A week in which nearly everything that can go wrong, does. Based on the ever-growing AU of Saffiaan's Groupchat fic in which John and Matthew are a couple (and John is the kind of person who has been planning his dream wedding since age six probably)
Relationships: Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot, John/Matthew (Jesus Christ Superstar)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 5





	1. Last Minute Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saffiaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saffiaan/gifts), [Maymoon0525](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maymoon0525/gifts).



> More or less required reading:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752191/chapters/59843461

**6 DAYS BEFORE**

PM between John and Mary

3:45PM

_[Picture attachment: a light teal suit jacket and a waistcoat in a matching colour, paired with a corsage of dark maroon and white blossoms]_

**John:** My life is complete. Just need alterations because these are both about two sizes too big

 **Mary:** Oh, sweet. Who’s wearing the corsage?

 **John:** We’re both wearing them. Or I might pin mine to my jacket. The waistcoat is Matt’s.

 **Mary:** I can already picture it, and it looks perfect in my head

 **John:** I know. Did you really expect any less of me?

 **Mary:** Of course not.

 **John:** You’re not going to call me out for cutting it so close? I know I should have settled on an outfit weeks ago

 **Mary:** Well, it’s your big day, not mine. You could go naked if you wanted. Simon wouldn’t object.

 **John:** Tempting, but I’ll pass.

 **Mary:** Oh btw, James and I are going to have a second look at our venue. Start arranging the tables and chairs, maybe.

 **John:** Ohh I need to go over myself later today. I still can’t believe how perfect it is.

 **Mary:** IKR? It was such a good idea to look on Airbnb as opposed to the usual hotels and garden options.

 **John:** The patio and gazebo is just divine

 **Mary:** Yes! And the magnolia trees look so good with the pale florals in your theme.

 **John:** Aaasdfghjkljh

 **John:** Thanks for everything. I owe all of you so much. We both do

 **Mary:** Tell Matt to stop being a flawless person and we’ll lay off on the favours :) Until then, you owe us nothing.

 **John:** ^___^

 **John:** Wait. What about me? Am I not flawless?

~

The setting sun splashed the sky with pale pink and lavender, a soft breeze stirring a soothing whisper from the surrounding trees. _Such beautiful weather_ , Mary reflected. _A perfect day for a disaster._

Two hours ago, she had been filled with the sort of supreme satisfaction that comes from knowing everything is falling perfectly and beautifully into place, and in no small part because of her. To be sure, every one of the friends was playing a vital role in ensuring John and Matthew had as picturesque a wedding as they could dream of. But Mary was the one who had kept the moving bits ticking on track. With the help of Peter’s analytical mind and math savvy keeping everyone within budget, the past few months had been just peachy.

Which naturally meant that everything that could go wrong began doing so days before the wedding.

“I’m sure we can find a way around this mistake somehow,” she said with what she hoped was not an overly forced smile. At least she was trying; the couple she was facing made no such effort at pleasantry.

“I’m sure you can.” The immaculately coiffed woman was intensely loathsome in her composure, the sharpness of her tone not unlike that of a teacher talking down to her student. “I have the emails and booking confirmation to prove we reserved this place two months ago."

“And I reserved it _three_ months ago.” Mary flashed her phone screen with the electronic reservation clearly displayed. The woman’s equally loathsome fiancé glared at her screen with consternation. He looked like the sort of man who would patronise a sandwich bar and then make scandalised remarks about the lack of gluten-free options.

Had Bart, the (very irresponsible) owner of the property been present, perhaps the matter could have been settled in a more congenial or at least professional manner. As it was, it seemed like Mary and James were about to go head to head with an egregiously tenacious pair of humans who appeared to have been born looking down their noses at those of a lesser pedigree.

“Alright. Look. Yours is a day event, right?” Mary said. “You’ll be done by the late afternoon. Which will give us a tight window of time to set up ours. You don’t even need to clean up – we can do that. If you can leave at least the patio and gazebo area free by, say, four –”

“And what if we don’t?” The woman’s voice turned downright unpleasant. Her fussy fiancé squared his shoulders and adjusted his shirt collar the way less buttoned-up men would flex their muscles. Mary wanted to punch them both in the face. James must have seen her own shoulders tightening and her fingers curling into fists as he laid a hand on her arm and interjected: “Hey, look, neither party is to blame here. Someone on Airbnb’s side was asleep on the job, and so was old Barty. So let’s not get into a big argument –”

“There is no argument,” came the curt reply. “We have the place fair and square.”

James gave it one more shot. “If we get to hear from Bart today…”

“Bart is a friend of my old schoolmate,” the fiancé continued smugly. “He’s not just the owner of this house, but one of our guests.”

Mary’s stomach tightened with the fury of having been done dirty, and with the certainty that they’d lost the battle. Even if they _could_ win it, there was no way she was risking her friend’s big day for a gamble of pride. She rose with a suddenness that made the couple draw back, drawing some satisfaction from the way they cowered just a little at the intensity of her stare. “I hope you have a very happy marriage.” Her voice dripped with honey and venom. Even James was intimidated into silence, and didn’t say a word until they were in the car and on the way back. “I’ll tell John, shall I?” he offered.

“We’ll find some place else,” she muttered. “Some place better.” He didn’t dare challenge her on that.

~

**4 DAYS BEFORE**

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

5:30PM

 **Peter:** I would like to declare that Simon is officially banned from all Excel sheets. And all online shared documents, to be safe.

 **Jesus:** What happened?

 **Peter:** You know that detailed spreadsheet I made as a checklist, and to track our inventory and keep everyone within budget?

 **Judas:** By ‘everyone’ you mainly mean John, but go on

 **Peter:** I don’t know what on earth Simon did, but half the items that have not yet been checked off are now gone, and the numbers look suspiciously tampered with.

 **Simon:** I would like to declare that I am innocent of any purposeful tampering.

 **Judas:** Because clearly there is such a thing as accidental tampering

 **Mary:** Do you remember what you deleted?

 **Simon:** I would if it was a deliberate act of sabotage. Which it wasn’t.

 **James:** I believe in your innocence

 **Simon:** Good to know I have one (1) friend on my side

 **Mary:** He kind of has to be, if he wants to keep borrowing your shirts and socks

 **Simon:** I thought Jesus at least would come to my defence

 **Jesus:** Sorry, my hands were busy with sugar flowers for the cake.

 **Simon:** Voice-to-text technology exists, you know

 **Peter:** Back to the topic. Luckily Google has a backtracking feature, and I am glad to announce that order has been restored.

 **Mary:** Is Simon still banned then? Seems kind of mean.

 **Peter:** I’m sorry

 **Peter:** I don’t want to, but

 **Judas:** something something greater good

 **Peter:** I mean, yes. But you’re right Mary, it /is/ a bit mean.

 **Simon:** I shall ignore the possibility that you are brushing up your girlfriend and thank you for your generosity, friend.

 **Mary:** We’re kind of long past the brushing up stage, tbh

 **Simon:** Some good news, aside from the rescued spreadsheet.

 **Simon:** I have secured all the bottles we need to keep an open bar going to the point where if someone does not do something very drunk and very stupid, I shall be terribly upset

 **James:** More likely you’ll just make up for it by doing more stupid things on your own.

 **Mary:** Please don’t encourage him

 **Judas:** I volunteer to break his legs before he can try

~

Matthew had not stopped feeling like the luckiest man on earth for the past few months. Ever since the clumsy but amusing “will you marry me” both of them had choked out at roughly the same time after stumbling over themselves to get there, time had moved strangely: weeks would pass by in a blur, or an hour would feel stretched out into a day. For all the adulting skills he had gained from living independently after being estranged from home as a teenager, he found that planning his own wedding was beyond him. And so he had left the marvellous complexities of themes and colour schemes and the logistics of the perfect location John already had in mind to his boyfriend. No – his spouse. His husband. To be able to say it felt both odd and indescribably wonderful.

As he stood beside John, looking at them both in the fitting room mirror, he felt as if his whole life – traumatizing, turbulent bits and all – had been building up to this moment. What did it matter if his waistcoat looked slightly askew or if the colour did not look precisely the right shade in some lights? What did it matter if his beloved had a huge stress pimple blooming on his forehead (which he did not, as Matthew kept assuring him every hour or so)? His love for John was a perpetually overflowing cup; not a short-lived fire but a steady flame on a candle that would die when he did, and not before.

And if one overlooked the tailoring flaws, they did, after all, make a dandy couple. The grey pinstriped pants Matthew wore was his own, as was the salmon-pink shirt he had bought just a week ago (after a lengthy search for precisely the right shade) to match the one John would be wearing with the light teal suit that was the source of the present torment.

“You look fine,” he whispered with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I look like a disaster.” John tugged at the lapels of the jacket for the umpteenth time. “Can’t you see the fit is all wrong? And take off that waistcoat, please. It doesn’t do you justice at all, which is a crime.”

“I’m sure it’ll be ready in time for Saturday.”

“Ugh. It’s my fault for not finding our outfits sooner.”

“If these aren’t good to go by the end of Friday, hopefully we can get a refund.”

“And what will we wear then??”

“Whatever we have. It’s not important –”

_“Not important??”_

The look in Matthew’s eyes made John regret his outburst. “I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled his husband in for a kiss. “You’re more important than any goddamn suit. And you’re right, of course.”

The volume of John’s exclamation had drawn the attention of Bella, the tailor’s assistant, who knocked on the door of the fitting room. “Is everything alright?”

“No, everything is not alright. You can tell Yazid that the fit is all wrong.” John knew he sounded like a spoilt brat; Matthew’s hand on his waist was reproachful as well as comforting.

Bella was a solution-oriented person, however, and had dealt with far more difficult customers. “Come out and we’ll see how to fix things.”

“It had better be fixed before the wedding, or –”

“It will be. You have my word.” Her professional assurance, along with Matthew’s calm presence by his side, told John that he was perhaps being just a little overdramatic. Fate had smiled upon them so far, after all. He had an amazing partner he barely deserved, and the best friends anyone could possibly ask for, all working to make this special day happen. Everything would indeed be alright with the world.

His serenity lasted until they got into the car and he checked his messages before driving off. Matthew saw his eyes widen and knew that the well-laid plans of the past two months was about to be shaken off their tracks.

“What do you mean, a change of venue??”


	2. Sugar, Stress and a Print Redress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which James reveals his secret wisdom

**3 DAYS BEFORE**

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

11:05AM

_[Picture attachment: table cards with guest names in blue, pink and gold, and a mock-up of a small marble-textured box in the same colour scheme]_

**Peter:** This is a disaster.

 **James:** Looks fine to me

 **James:** Then again, I just woke up so my judgment shouldn’t be trusted

 **Simon:** His judgement on colours shouldn’t be trusted when he’s fully awake either.

 **James:** Wow, look at the pot calling the kettle black

 **Judas:** Having been subject to the sight of Simon’s living room walls, I’m inclined to agree.

 **Mary:** @Peter please don’t show that picture to John, he’ll freak out. He was already in a fit when I told him about the location change.

 **Jesus:** Wait. What location change?

 **Mary:** Didn’t you see the main groupchat yesterday evening?

 **Simon:** I did. Place looks amazing. Good job

 **Mary:** Thanks! It’s not too far from the previous one. And the gazebo is even prettier

 **James:** We’re going over today to start with the décor and arranging shit, right?

 **Mary:** Yessss

 **Mary:** I’m so glad I can finally sleep properly tonight

 **Peter:** Well, /I’m/ not getting any sleep until I fix these table cards and gift tea boxes. Which idiot who works at a printing press confuses turquoise with blue? And my sample specifically indicated rose-gold, not gold-gold D:<

 **Peter:** This may be the second time in my entire life I’m actually throwing a bitch fit

 **Simon:** I’m so glad to be alive for this historic occasion

~

Mary and Peter were not the only ones whose sleep routine was under siege. Jesus found himself being haunted by dreams of collapsed buttercream toppings during the few hours of shut-eye he caught in between piping succulents like a maniac. The succulents – in shades of grey-green, maroon and lavender – were being piped onto parchment sheets and placed into containers that were taking up every inch of fridge space he had, to be transferred onto a hundred cupcakes on the morning of the big day. And he wasn’t even half done with the decorations for the wedding cake, which John had sent him detailed sketches and references of.

The cling-wrapped rolls of fondant on his kitchen counter were another gamble. He had never made fondant before, and had relied purely on the best online tutorials he could find. His biggest triumph had been achieving the marbled texture to match the design of the customised boxes of tea Matthew had had his heart set on as the perfect take-home gift. If the coating draped the cake well enough on the day of the wedding, it would look magnificent. If it started to crack, well…

Jesus forced the thought out of his mind before it gave him another anxiety attack. The small pile of sugar flowers was not growing fast enough for what he belatedly realised was an overambitious decorating project. And time was slipping like sand through his frantically moving fingers. Despite his best attempts, his nerves were fraying by the time James rang the doorbell.

“You got some cupcakes for me to haul?” the man greeted with his usual calm cheer. Along with Simon, he was the designated transporter for whatever needed moving, which included the transfer of baked goods and other perishables to anyone able to volunteer spare fridge space.

“I have fifty of them.” He nodded to the counter where a batch of beautiful red velvet mounds lay neatly arranged in a large container. “The other half are baking right now.”

James caught a waft from the oven and inhaled deeply. “Dude. They smell _heavenly.”_

Jesus seemed not to hear the compliment and immediately went back to shaping cream-coloured gum paste into petals. James sat across him and watched his hands deftly fold them into life-like camellias. “Don’t suppose you’d trust me to help you with those.”

His smile was strained. “I’d ask John, but I don’t want to bother either of them.”

“Of course. You know, you’d save a lot of pain by buying actual flowers and sticking them in on the day itself.”

“I did consider it. But I didn’t want to risk them not being available or going wrong at the last minute.” He shrugged in an effort to look like he had things under control, even if the shadows under his eyes told a different story.

“Have you, like, eaten or slept within the past twelve hours?”

Jesus actually paused for a good few seconds, as if trying to recall when he had done either. James shook his head. “Listen, I’m the last person qualified to judge anyone’s dubious choices. So I won’t.” He produced a paper bag that rustled with the promise of something crispy and fried, pushing it in his friend’s face. “I was probably right to get churros on the way here, though.”

“You’re the best, James.” He devoured a whole churro gratefully, wiping cinnamon sugar off his fingers so they wouldn’t taint the cluster of delicate blossoms before him.

“I know.”

A bell-like _ding_ from the oven indicated the second batch of cupcakes were done. Jesus rose to get them out so they could cool down enough to be packed and ready for James to bring back to his place (or rather, Simon’s place; he did not trust the condition of James’ refrigerator after witnessing a mould-related horror he wished he could forget). As he passed by the stretch of counter where he had left yesterday’s sugar flowers to dry, his elbow brushed three of the largest blossoms. James saw them fall toward the floor, but was too late to help catch them. They crashed to the tile with the softest, prettiest shattering sound he had ever heard.

He wasn’t sure if he should pick up the ruined camellias or offer a hug first. Jesus looked like he was about to cry. “Hey. It’s okay,” he said rather uselessly, knowing that in his friend’s eyes the situation was definitely not okay.

“Those were supposed to go on the very top tier of the cake,” Jesus said, trying to keep his voice steady as he scooped up the wreckage.

“There’s still time to make new ones, surely.”

“They need at least twenty-fours to properly set.”

James laid a comforting hand on his back. “Yeah. Well. We’ll think of something, alright?”

Jesus said nothing but proceeded to stress-eat his way through the entire bag of churros as James located the oven mitts and carefully took out the cupcakes, laying them out to cool. He dug out his phone to check for updates in the wedding planner chat and to shoot a text to one of the bridegrooms.

PM between James and John

4:10PM

 **James:** Hey. Uhm. How important exactly is the cake to this wedding?

 **John:** What kind of question is that?

 **James:** I mean, like, how perfect does it have to be

 **John:** As long as it looks good and has at least some of the stuff I planned on it, it should be fine?

 **James:** Ok great.

 **John:** You’re not about to tell me the whole cake just fell apart or something, right?

 **James:** Don’t worry, the cake is intact. Might be missing some flowers and shit, but that’s about it.

 **John:** …how many flowers exactly? Will there be /anything/ on it?

 **James:** Listen. I don’t know how to tell you this, but

 **James:** Jesus is killing himself trying to make sure it lives up to your dreams.

 **James:** I know you’re a diva and all that, and we love you for it. But you gotta go easy on some of your friends.

 **James:** I heard you were all up in Mary’s business the other day when she didn’t immediately update you on the double booked venue. Even though she was already trying her best.

 **James:** Anyway, you should have seen Jesus’ face when some of those sugar thingies he’d been slaving over fell to pieces. He looked like his world had come to an end.

 **John:** …shit. Omg. I’m so sorry. I think I owe everyone an apology.

 **James:** You don’t owe me anything. Just…maybe take it easy, alright? On yourself as well as everyone.

James looked up from his phone to see Jesus already hard at work replacing the broken camellias. “Hey,” he said softly. “You want me to grab you a coffee? I know you have a machine, but I’m not about to try and operate that thing. Too many buttons.”

Jesus looked like he would very much indeed love a coffee. Either that or a nap. “It’s fine,” he replied, as James knew he would. “You need to get the cakes to Simon’s place, and then help bring the extra chairs to the venue. According to Peter’s checklist anyway.”

James just nodded and took the two large containers of red velvet, disappearing through the door. About twenty minutes later – to Jesus’ surprise – he rematerialized with two tall, piping hot Americanos.

“Didn’t you…I thought you were supposed to – ”

“Simon met me halfway to intercept the cupcakes. The chairs can wait.” James shoved the paper cup into his hand. “Extra shot; I assumed you’d need it.”

The fatigue lining Jesus’ face was replaced with a glow of gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Throw yourself out the window over some spoilt flowers, probably.”

As they sipped their coffee, both their phone screens lit up.

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

4:50PM

 **Peter:** Disaster averted!

_[Picture attachment: table cards and a box for teabags printed in the correct colours, including the desired metallic rose-gold finish]_

**Peter:** Caveat – the material we planned for ran out, but the replacement is close enough.

 **Mary:** That looks hella good. Did you have to pay for the reprint though?

 **Peter:** Heck no.

 **Simon:** Impressive negotiating skills, my friend

 **Peter:** Actually…I had a little help.

 **James:** I’m curious as to what kind of help

 **Peter:** Well, the printing place is about a five-minute drive from Judas’ workplace

 **Peter:** So when the guy got difficult with me, I called in a favour

 **Peter:** I don’t know what Judas said to him, but when they were done talking he looked like he’d wet himself a little.

 **Judas:** He probably did, because he’s a cowardly dipshit like that

 **Mary:** Can’t believe I’m condoning what sounds like graphic threats of violence, but I’m proud of you both.

James grinned as he read out the texts for Jesus’ benefit, whose hands and eyes were now busy with the folding of an exquisite burgundy carnation. “Do you ever get aroused by your boyfriend threatening to murder someone?”

Jesus smiled, taking another swig of his coffee in between folding petals. “That sounds like a very Simon question.”

“It is. He mentioned it a few times before, so I’m asking on his behalf.”

“Maybe I’ll tell him myself someday.”

James shrugged. “Sounds like a yes to me.”

When Jesus only blushed lightly in lieu of an answer, James shot a message to Simon.

PM between James and Simon

4:55PM

 **James:** With possibly some exceptions we’ll never know of, Jesus does get turned on by Judas being murder-y with other people.

 **Simon:** Knew it

 **James:** Looks like Mary owes you twenty bucks

5:05

 **Simon:** Mary says that’s the first and last time she takes part in ridiculous bets. I say she’s just being a sore loser.


	3. A Little Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is more than one Shrek reference in this chapter because I'm from that generation so deal with it

**2 DAYS BEFORE**

PM between John and Mary

9:40AM

 **John:** I don’t suppose it’s possible to postpone the wedding

 **Mary:** Is this a serious question and should I be concerned?

 **John:** I need to go into hiding for the next week. I am not fit for human eyes. How will Matt ever love me now when he sees the monster I’ve become

 **Mary:** Uhm

 **Mary:** Are you alright? Do you want me to come over? I have the morning to spare

9:51AM

 **Mary:** John??

“John?” Matthew considered dragging up a chair to wait outside the bathroom that his beloved had decided to barricade himself in. “I know you can hear me, babe.”

“Please, don’t make me come out. Not until it gets dark.”

“Is this like a reverse Shrek thing where you turn into an ogre in the daylight?”

A soft sniffle. “That _is_ kind of funny. But it’s worse.”

“Worse than being green and twice your original size? You’re going to need a new suit. Especially since green and teal might not match.” Matthew’s heart lifted a little when he got a faint chuckle from John.

“Alright, if you insist. It’s my…my acne. I’ve not had it for ages, save one or two odd stress pimples. This is the worst it’s been since that one stretch during college finals when I was slaving over project deadlines.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “Except that I wasn’t getting married to the man of my dreams then.”

“John. Are you seriously going to hide from me every time you get pimples?”

“No, because I never get pimples.”

“Right.”

“My skincare routine is fool-proof, okay?? But I made the mistake of skipping it two days in a row and being anxious over our big day. And now my face looks like an over-baked lasagna.”

“Well. Lasagna is good. I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t love lasagna –”

“This is not a joke, Matt! I can’t exchange vows with the man I love looking like this!”

“Listen to me. And I’m being completely serious.” Matt leaned his face and chest against the door, hoping John could feel the closeness of his body somehow. “I’m long past the stage of caring what you look like. What I can’t live without is the person you are beneath all that. The way you think and talk, the way you…you say certain things, like how you always mispronounce ‘zucchini.’ Your soft snoring in the morning despite your insistence that you never snore. How you fuss over things that don’t matter to show you care. _That’s_ who and what I’m marrying.”

There was a pregnant silence following this. Matthew thought he heard the sound of very soft sobbing. “You alright…?” he asked tentatively. “Oh god. Did I say something wrong – ?”

“ _No._ No, every single thing you said was wonderful and…and…I’m crying like an idiot because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve your – well – _everything._ How wonderful you are.”

Matthew felt tears stinging his own eyes and flowing freely as he answered. “If it’s any comfort, I felt exactly the same way when we first started dating. I just wasn’t used to…to being _worth_ someone’s time and effort. The only people I’d been with made me feel shitty about taking up space at all. Like I should be grateful anyone even looked at me twice.” His voice dropped during the last sentence as he traced the faint scar that lined his chest.

“You made me feel like a human being again, John. Well, you and Simon.” He swiped at the film of tears coating his face. “He pulled me out of the shit pit, but I never really felt clean until you…until…”

The door swung open then, causing him to fall forward into John’s arms as they curled around him almost hard enough to bruise. “Don’t you ever think anything like that about yourself again,” said John fiercely even as he sobbed into Matthew’s chest. “You’re worth ten of any other man I’ve ever been with. You deserve ten of _me._ ” The kiss they drew from each other was salty with tears. When they parted, both their eyes were red and puffy. “You deserve the best things in life,” John added. “And I-I want this day to be everything you wish it to be.”

“What I wish it to be is a day spent showing off how much I love you until everyone is sick of us.” Matthew smiled at the constellation of pimples dotting John’s otherwise flawless skin. “And you look beautiful, by the way. I can’t speak for others. But you’re beautiful to me, and I love you beyond measure and beyond reason.”

“And I hate you,” John replied in a whisper. “For being so sublime and for making me feel like nothing I say or do will ever be enough to –”

“Enough? You are not ‘enough.’ You are everything, and more.” Their lips met again, and stayed locked until they were full to overflowing from each other’s adoration.

PM between John and Mary

10:10AM

 **John:** Sorry for not responding. Everything’s fine now. Better than fine, really.

 **Mary:** I don’t know what on earth that was about, but uhm

 **Mary:** good for you :)

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

12:01PM

 **Judas:** Can’t believe it’s me saying this and not Simon, but if I get arrested for murder some time this week, don’t be shocked

 **Peter:** I can believe it, tbh

 **James:** I also wouldn’t be shocked

 **Simon:** Do you need help with said murder? At least you’ll have company in jail.

 **Mary:** Should we ask what the motive is?

 **Judas:** The idiot DJ I booked over a month ago who apparently can’t read a calendar realised he was already taken on the same date by someone who had reserved him ahead of us.

 **Judas:** He seems like a dimwit, so it shouldn’t be too hard to lure him into a quiet place and stab him in the guts

 **Simon:** I’m in

 **Mary:** Maybe consider other alternatives first.

 **Mary:** Plus if you get arrested before the wedding, I’ll kill you before you can worry about a death sentence

 **James:** Having witnessed Mary in murder mode first-hand, I can attest that this is a real threat

 **Jesus:** Judas, you work with musicians all the time. Maybe call in some favours?

 **Judas:** Maybe inhaling all that sugar has made you lose track of time, but it’s two fucking days to the fucking wedding.

 **Judas:** Even if by some miracle the replacement DJ pulls a whole setlist out of their ass based on our guide,

 **Judas:** the last minute-ness of the booking means up to double the fee. I don’t need Peter nagging me about going over budget.

 **Jesus:** Fine. It was just a suggestion.

 **Judas:** If you have money to throw at the problem (unlikely), be my damn guest.

_Jesus left the chat_

**James:** Here we go again

~

Simon and James both had most of their day full with transporting numerous items to the venue or from one friend’s house to another, and so had entrusted Judas with picking up and storing the layers of wedding cake from Jesus’ place, which were to be assembled and decorated on the morning of the big day. At about two in the afternoon, Simon’s phone buzzed insistently while he was making his way to the idyllic homestay with crates of liquor, mixers and enough lime juice for half a thousand margaritas.

“What’s up?” he greeted Judas after hitting speaker mode so he could keep his hands free.

“Care to switch transport duties? I’ll come over to your place to get the bottles.”

“No can do, sorry. I’m already on my way.”

Simon patiently endured the string of curses he knew wasn’t directed at him. After Judas was done, he said: “I assume you have not made up with your boyfriend.”

“Seems like more often than not, the onus is on me to initiate the making-up. Maybe he should do the work for once.”

“Well, he does have his work cut out with all that cake. Which you still need to pick up at some point in the day.”

“And risk him throwing it in my face, probably.”

“He’s unlikely to ruin his own hard work. But it’s possible he made some spare garbage cake just for that purpose.”

“Very funny.”

“You know, an apology wouldn’t hurt.”

A long sigh of frustration emerged from Simon’s phone speaker. “If I had to say sorry every single time he got pissy for some trivial reason, I’d be apologizing every two hours.”

“Which is still far easier than starting a prolonged war that sucks everyone into its drama eventually like some kind of black hole.”

There was a stretch of silence. Just as Simon thought he had hung up, he said, grudgingly: “Maybe I _was_ a little snappy.”

“Wow, it’s self-aware now.”

“Shut up."

“I could, but you’re still here talking to me.”

“You know how goddamn sensitive he can be.”

“We all know, trust me.”

“So you agree that I’m right this time.”

Simon shook his head. “When will you realise that being right doesn’t make you less miserable? You just make things hard for yourself, you know.”

“So I should give in to his every whim, or let him think he’s right all the time?

“No. I mean you can win without the stress of an argument you know will go sour. You can end it before it begins _and_ have your way.”

“If you don’t stop talking in riddles –”

“You’ll disembowel me alive or something. Yeah. Look, Jesus is not a hard person to figure out. As the song goes, ‘ _you gotta, gotta try a little tender-ness.’_ ” He added his imitation of a sax for good measure.

“Kinda hard to do that when he sets his mind on having a silent bitch fit.”

“Is it, though?” Simon took a sip of the milkshake monstrosity he had mixed from three different smoothies and a caramel latte. “I dare you to march to his door and show him some loving. Surprise him. And let me know if it works.”

Another stretch of silence, shorter than the first. “Ugh. Fine. If you promise never to subject me to your off-key singing again.”

“Deal. Torturing James with it is usually enough for me.”

“Lucky him.”

“Lucky, alright. I might suck him off later if we’re both not too tired.” Simon grinned. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky too.”

~

Judas reminded himself to stay calm when the doorbell went unanswered as he stabbed it a third time. ‘ _Think of all the things you love about him. The little things, especially.’_ He couldn’t believe he was taking advice from Simon of all people. _The way he fiddles with his hair when he’s happy or nervous. And how the edges fall against his neck in messy tendrils._ Then again, he would probably rather die than ask it from anyone else. _How soft his face looks when he’s baking or carving wood._ At the very least he had managed to vent in a not-unhealthy way. _Humming to himself without realising it whenever he arranges things._ Even if they didn’t make up completely, at the very least they could part in peace and not add to the existing stress of managing the logistics of this whole affair. _Placing bookmarks everywhere in the house because he keeps losing the one he has and only finding it later._ He reached for the bell a fifth time. _How his lips feel when they part against –_

The door swung open. Jesus greeted him with a curt nod, refusing to meet his eyes. Judas suddenly realised he had not planned his next move. Impulsively, he reached out to slide a hand behind Jesus’ neck.

“What –”

The utterance went unfinished as Judas kissed him, half-expecting to be pushed away. He was met with some resistance at first; but then Jesus’ lips parted to spill a soft, tremulous, delicious sound before melting into Judas and closing every small gap between them. Within seconds he was clinging tightly as if his life depended on it. When Judas’ mouth slid down to his neck, he all but swooned. Pressing their hips together indicated he was every bit as needy as Judas was for him.

“I think the cake can wait for a few minutes, don’t you?” Judas asked roughly. Except it wasn’t really a question. And Jesus didn’t need to answer.

Some minutes later they lay with limbs lazily draped around one another, all responsibilities forgotten for the moment. They had not wanted to soil the sofa, and so had gotten busy on the living room floor instead, spilling their lust onto the hardwood and countering its hardness with the soft post-coital warmth of their bodies, every angle and curve fitting perfectly together as they always had.

“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” Jesus murmured drowsily, a calf hooked onto his. Judas couldn’t help noticing the slightly bruised look of his sleep-deprived eyes.

“Not within the next half an hour. Although I do need to get some AV equipment to the venue eventually. Test the sound system and all that. I know someone who has a turntable I can borrow, even if we don’t have a DJ.”

“Mmm.”

Judas found it hard to believe the next words escaping his mouth. He blamed the mind-melting intensity of the sex they’d had. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you in the groupchat.”

Jesus’ murmured words were unclear – he was already drifting off despite the discomfort of the floor. He did not object when Judas hooked an arm beneath his legs and another around his shoulders, lifting him onto the sofa. He found the throw blanket habitually tucked underneath the coffee table and threw it over Jesus’ bare body before pulling on his clothes.

“Get some rest.”

A hand reached out for his. “Don’t leave. Not just yet.”

It was nearly impossible to resist Jesus in that soft, pliant state, and he was only too glad for the familiar thrill – for it still thrilled him after all these years – of Jesus snuggling against him, head on his chest and the soothing rhythm of his breaths as he fell asleep. In a moment of tenderness no other human on earth would ever have to privilege to witness, he buried his face in that dark mop of hair, drawing a hum of pleasure from Jesus even in the throes of slumber. They would never have the sort of relationship the happily married couple they were celebrating did. But he knew that he would suffer countless storms of heated arguments and embittered words to get to moments like these. He only hoped Jesus would never stop feeling the same.

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

2:05PM

 **Judas:** You can add Jesus back to the chat now

 **Simon:** Someone just had makeup sex. I win this bet

 **Judas:** Bullshit. There was no bet

 **Simon:** Not with you, there wasn’t. James owes me two blowjobs.

 **Peter:** Wow, more information that no one asked for

 **James:** But not exactly surprising information.

 **Mary:** Nope, we’ve definitely been here before, and likely will again

_Peter added Jesus to the group_

**Simon:** I give it three weeks.

 **James:** At least by then Matt and John will be able to partake in the drama again.

 **Mary:** You say that as if sharing the drama somehow reduces it.

 **Simon:** Yeah, everyone knows drama is the sort of thing that is multiplied rather than divided. It’s just science.

 **Judas:** If Simon doesn’t shut up I’m leaving next.

 **Simon:** Big deal. Your attempts to leave groupchats are like gravity and taxes: inevitable.

 **Jesus:** I can see I just missed a very important discussion

 **James:** Very important.

 **James:** Simon was insisting I owe him three blowjobs, but I told him two in one day is already kind of excessive.

 **Simon:** Only if you’re weak

 **Peter:** Guys, can you take this into another chat

 **Mary:** You need to be specific, or they’ll spam the main group with their oral sex activity. Pretty sure Matt and John don’t need that right now.

 **Peter:** Pretty sure no one needs that, ever.

 **Simon:** You’re all boring

 **Simon:** Except for you, James

 **James:** Thanks.

 **James:** You’re still getting no more than two, though

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donkey knows what's up. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMaFjEH1B0g


	4. The Shellfish Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things don't stop going wrong as we hurtle towards the big day, but everything's fixable and no one gets hurt

**1 DAY BEFORE**

PM between Matthew and Peter

8:15AM

 **Matthew:** Are you awake?

 **Peter:** Yeah, it’s a working day for me. I should have taken a day or two off like some of the rest, but oh well

 **Matthew:** I’m sorry.

 **Peter:** Hey, don’t apologize. Just lack of planning on my part.

 **Matthew:** Still. I know you and everyone has been working so hard to make this happen, and

 **Matthew:** It’s been keeping me up a bit. I just feel like we’re subjecting you guys to more trouble than we’re worth.

 **Peter:** Matt, please. We’re all doing this because we want to. I mean, it wasn’t even your idea or John’s to rope anyone in. So don’t feel bad.

 **Peter:** Besides, you’re a wonderful person and you deserve this.

 **Matthew:** That’s what John keeps telling me.

 **Matthew:** There are some days when half my life feels like a dream.

 **Peter:** From what I’ve heard, much of the other half was kind of a nightmare. Life is unfair, but I’d say this is probably the least it owes you.

 **Matthew:** Thank you.

 **Peter:** You don’t need to thank me. Really.

 **Matthew:** Not even for all the work you’ve done keeping us organised? :)

 **Peter:** Tbh, I started enjoying it midway through. Learnt some new things along the way. I’m seriously thinking of adding ‘wedding planning’ to my resume.

 **Matthew:** You probably should. Anyone who can do what you’ve done without panicking is worth hiring.

 **Peter:** I did panic a bit, in the beginning. Although it lowkey feels good being the only one in the whole group who is actually Excel-literate.

 **Peter:** Hey talk more later, I need to go shower now.

 **Matthew:** Right. Hey. Before you go, I need to ask you something

 **Matthew:** Just how allergic are you to shellfish?

 **Matthew:** And is it all shellfish, or just like a specific type

 **Peter:** I just know that the last time I had clam soup, I nearly died.

 **Peter:** I was about eight then. Not sure if I’ve gotten any better. Or worse

 **Peter:** Anyway, my parents wouldn’t let me near anything with a shell after that. I ate a prawn once without their knowledge and felt like I was doing drugs or smthg. But all it did was give me a rash.

 **Peter:** Still avoid shellfish like the plague though.

 **Matthew:** Wow. Ok…thanks

 **Peter:** Any particular reason you wanted to know?

~

John waltzed into the house like he was walking on clouds, holding their outfits in one and the corsages and flower crowns in another, the latter carefully packed in crepe tissue. Everything was finally coming together. In the car was a box of cutlery and plates he had bought in bulk for cheap: beautiful earthenware in stone grey and dark sea-green, and copper forks and spoons that went perfectly with the rose-gold accents of the overall colour theme. He guessed that Mary would have told him it was an unnecessary impulse buy, but he justified it with the fact that crockery was reusable, after all, and cost less than renting them from the caterer. “Plus, who could resist such beautiful plates?” he had texted Matthew upon his find.

Matthew had not responded, which John chalked up to his preoccupation with the menu for tomorrow. He was not wrong – except that he had not expected to hear his spouse’s raised voice when he walked in on what sounded like a heated conversation involving mussels in the pasta.

“We specifically requested no seafood except for fish! What part of that wasn’t clear?” A pause. “No, this is not negotiable. Serious allergies are not negotiable. Do you want my friend to literally die because of your mistake?”

John tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, quietly enjoying this assertive side of Matthew he had never seen before. He couldn’t help cherishing the sight of Matt’s dark long-lashed eyes flashing with indignant insistence, the way his whole face lit up as he passionately refused to pay any extra to replace two of the main dishes with non-shellfish alternatives. By the time the call was over, he was trembling slightly. His cheeks were flushed as he turned around to see John smiling at him.

“I-I’ve never spoken to anyone like that in my life before,” he said, eyes falling to his feet. John stepped forward to kiss him.

“It’s about time you did.”

“Still. I wish you hadn’t seen me like this…”

“I’m _glad_ I saw you like this. I’m glad you’re not so nice that you’re in danger of letting people walk over you. And glad you’re enough of a sweetheart to feel bad about not being nice.” John hugged him tightly. “Someday you’ll fully realise just how amazing you are, and then I’ll have to work even harder to keep you.”

Matthew grinned. “I’m not sure I want you to work that hard. You’re kind of dramatic enough as it is.” John pouted as he added: “And I love you for it.”

“Zits and all?”

“Zits included. Which are all gone, by the way.”

“Oh, good.” John looked so terribly relieved that Matthew couldn’t help laughing. “You act as if you haven’t checked a mirror several times over.”

“I have, trust me. But you know how my self-esteem depends on external validation. Curse of being a YouTuber, probably.”

Matthew was quite sure his YouTube career had little to do with it, but he also knew John was well aware of the excuses he made for his insecurities. “I’m guessing the suit turned out well.”

“You weren’t there to try on the waistcoat, but it looks much improved. I still need to make sure, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.”

John was about to insist he try it on when his phone lit up with a text that demanded his attention.

PM between Mary and John

10:40AM

 **Mary:** Hey, there’s no need to come over. We got this.

 **John:** You sure?

 **Mary:** Yes. You should spend today relaxing, you know. So you can look as radiant as possible tomorrow ;)

 **John:** I know. But I still need to make sure things look good.

 **Mary:** Things look great.

_[Picture attachment: a bouquet of cream-white blossoms with a spray of dark blue-green foliage]_

_[Picture attachment: part of a white gazebo overhung with creeper leaves and dried wildflowers]_

_[Picture attachment: a succulent plant encased in a geometric glass terrarium]_

**Mary:** The table succulents are really cute

 **John:** Omg they are. I’ve been dreaming of these as centrepieces for ages.

 **John:** Btw, are there carnations along with those camellias? They should be paired up, ideally.

 **Mary:** The carnations will be there. We’re still making some small adjustments.

 **John:** Everything looks gorgeous. Are you sure you don’t need help, though?

 **Mary:** Nope. You can stop stressing now. Everything’s fine

~

Everything was not fine. The flowers were all wrong, for one. The camellias were mixed with chrysanthemums, and in place of the burgundy carnations that had failed to materialise were orange dahlias. “Why is everyone failing us??” Mary exclaimed. “Is there some kind of conspiracy to stop this wedding from happening?”

“At this point, I’m willing to believe it”, said James, who was busy texting the florist whose contact John had passed them. “Does John or Matt have enemies we don’t know about?”

“Can’t believe I had to lie to John with carefully cropped pictures. Even the vines on the gazebo look patchy. And a few of the tablecloths have obvious mildew spots.” The succulent table pieces had been the only items to turn out right. She had to admit they were very pretty.

“At least the pictures themselves weren’t lying. And maybe we can cover the mildew somehow.”

“Are you calling the damned florist? Give me that.” James handed over the phone and watched as Mary’s polite enquiries escalated into politely pointed threats that towards the end shed all diplomacy and turned deadly serious. All the time her voice remained at a perfectly reasonable volume, which was more frightening than if she had started yelling. Her small smile as she closed the call with a gracious thank-you filled James with an odd sort of satisfaction.

“So they’ll take care of the problem?” he asked as he took his phone back.

“Consider it solved.”

He grinned. “Impressive.”

Sure enough, twenty minutes later on the dot, three youths arrived bearing the correct type of flowers in the correct amount. The rest of the morning passed pleasantly as Mary and James set the blossoms in buckets of water, arranged in bouquets according to John’s specific instructions and ready to be set in place the next morning. Strains of the couple’s favourite music wafted through the air as Judas tested the sound system. They had scrapped the idea of a DJ set and settled for a laptop with a playlist thrown in. Around noon, Simon arrived with the last of the supplies for the bar as well as pizza for lunch.

“Sorry that these are cold,” he said, laying four boxes onto one of the tables, making sure to avoid the meticulously arranged centrepieces.

“I’m just relieved there are no bananas or some shit.” Judas grabbed a salami-laden slice and took a large bite.

“Banana is a most underrated topping, my friend.”

“Not on a goddamn pizza, it isn’t.”

Mary wiped off her hands and took a slice for herself. “Thanks for bringing food, Simon. Even if four extra large pizzas is a bit much for just us.”

“Yeah, well. I ordered three. But Nate threw in one for free.”

James’ eyes widened a little. “Nate…?”

“Yup. That Nate."

“You made a friend at the pizza place, huh?” Mary asked, nibbling traces of pineapple off her fingers.

“You could say that,” James answered. “He really provides top-notch service,” Simon elaborated.

“We left him a commendation on the website that led to him getting a good bonus.”

“Plus I guess he enjoyed us licking aioli sauce off his balls.”

“There it is,” Judas said as Mary groaned and rolled her eyes. “The unwanted information.”

James only shrugged as if to say _I’ve given up trying to stop him._ To prevent the divulging of further details, Mary diverted the topic to the scented candles. “We might as well put them in place first, and arrange the flowers around them tomorrow.” She looked over to Simon. “You did bring the candles from John’s place, right?”

Simon stood and his eyes widened. “Shit.”

Meese, Geese and Cheese

1:04PM

 **Matthew:** Just checking, is salmon and shiitake linguini good for everyone?

 **Mary:** Sounds delicious

 **Simon:** Is it true that murder by shellfish was narrowly averted?

 **Peter:** Ohh, so that’s what your shellfish question was about.

 **Peter:** You didn’t have to go to the trouble. As long as there’s something I can eat without dying, I’m cool

 **James:** You can have your pick of the hundred over cupcakes Jesus baked for dessert.

 **Jesus:** It’s precisely a hundred. I’m done topping 80 of them.

 **Simon:** The only topping Jesus will ever do

 **Mary:** Omg Simon

 **Simon:** You know it’s true

 **Judas:** One of these days I swear

 **Simon:** One day you’re gonna have to make real on those death threats, buddy

 **Simon:** But not till after the wedding

 **Simon:** Btw @John I’m coming over now to pick up those candles. Sorry I forgot about em.

 **John:** Oh, it’s cool. They slipped my mind too. Can you imagine?

 **James:** Knowing your obsession with those things, it /is/ a first.

 **John:** Also, can we change the chat title?

 **Simon:** To what, something boring?

 **John:** I just really don’t like the word meese

 **Simon:** You’ll get used to it.

 **John:** This chat name has had 'meese' in it before and I wasn’t used to it then.

 **Simon:** If at first you don’t succeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nate the Pizza Guy was Saffiaan's lovely invention that I was happy to borrow for yet another stellar example of Simon's TMI Syndrome :D


	5. Day of Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a happy ending with more sickeningly fluffy things than i have ever written in my entire life

John awoke to the sound of thunder. Dread filled his belly, crawling up his chest until it spilt past his lips in the form of a whisper: “Matt.” He whispered his beloved’s name once, twice, cradling Matthew’s shoulder until he stirred.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine.” He turned over in bed, and John saw that a small smile tugged at his lips despite his half-shut eyes. “I heard the thunder too.”

“Why are you smiling, then?”

“Because I guessed you would panic and wake me, and I was right.”

“Ugh. I hate how predictable I’m becoming.”

“I don’t. I love knowing that everything you do is…well, you. If ever some clone tried to replace the John I married, I would know immediately.”

“Would you complain, though?” He snuggled closer to Matthew. “What if the new John was less of a picky, dramatic bitch? And still loved and cared for you the same?”

“If he was that nice, I would tell him to find someone else to care for, and make them happy. And then I’d go in search of _my_ John – the one I know and love, without whom my life would not be the same.”

John leaned over and kissed him. “Can you stop being perfect for ten seconds?”

“I will if you will.”

“I’m not perfect. I just look it most of the time.”

“I wish _I_ did.”

“You always look great, shut up.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Matthew trailed a finger up his bare arm. “Until a few months ago, I didn’t really think I was worth looking at. And now, knowing otherwise…well, I couldn’t be happier.”

His eyes were wide with love, and John felt himself drawn into their dark depths as they melted into each other’s arms.

Meese, Geese and Cheese

8:32AM

 **John:** Someone please tell the weather to calm down

 **Simon:** Calm down, weather

 **James:** That helped. It just got a bit brighter.

 **Mary:** It’s sunny where I am. Anyway, the weather forecast for our actual venue indicates slight cloudiness but no rain for the day.

 **John:** Yes, but those things are wrong like half the time.

 **James:** @Jesus should I come over soon?

 **Jesus:** Yes, please. In about 10 mins

 **Matthew:** Mary has told me we shouldn’t show up till like an hour after, but John’s already started on his facial :)

 **Matthew:** He’s also going to wrangle me into my waistcoat and cravat to ensure it fits, as if we can do anything about it now

 **Simon:** Sounds like a call for help, my friend. Sadly we cannot save you.

 **Judas:** The weather’s not the only thing that needs to calm down, clearly

~

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

10:31AM

 **Mary:** @James are you almost here? Might need your help with the gazebo setup

 **James:** We’re uh, halfway there. I was about to call

 **James:** My engine has decided to mysteriously malfunction

 **Peter:** Damn

 **James:** Can someone pick us up? Preferably before Jesus has a breakdown or smthg

 **Mary:** What do you have that needs transporting aside from the baked goods?

 **James:** A big box of plates. Another box of forks and spoons. An extra speaker to replace the faulty one.

 **Peter:** Mary’s busy, but she’s letting me take her car. It has a decent amount of space. Send me your location

 **James:** Alright, I PM-ed you

 **Peter:** Got it. Be there in five

The unpredictability of traffic, and Peter’s reluctance to pick up a speeding ticket while driving Mary’s MPV, resulted in the five minutes extending to fifteen – which became twenty while waiting for the tow truck to haul James’s van to the workshop. As soon as they got there, Jesus proceeded to assemble and crumb coat the layers of raspberry chocolate cake at twice the speed he had planned. The confection needed to be refrigerated for a while before he could drape it, during which he paced nervously in between helping arrange the plates and making adjustments to the various bouquets. The marbled fondant looked stunning on the tall stacks of cake – until it started cracking at the edges.

“Here, let me help,” Mary offered, sensing the start of an anxiety attack. “You made some to spare, right? Can it be used to patch up the cracks?”

“Hopefully. I’ve never worked with fondant before.” The corners of his mouth were tight with several days’ worth of fretting. “This was a mistake…if it falls apart during the event, I-I don’t know what I’ll do – ”

“Hey. It’s OK. No one expects it to be perfect.” She laid a soothing hand on his back until he calmed down. “Let’s get your flowers on. They’re gorgeous, and no one is going to notice some puny cracks in between.”

As everything was set in place and Peter had laid the last of John’s dream copper cutlery onto the last table, the weather forecast did indeed turn out to be mistaken as the clouds above let loose a light drizzle. “Quick, move everything into the shade!” someone yelled. Most of the seating was already shaded, but there were a few unprotected cocktail tables that needed hauling before the rain could ruin the centrepieces. “The gods themselves must oppose this wedding,” James commented after they had saved the last of the tables, thankful he had not yet put on the dove-grey suit jacket he was wearing as John’s best man – it would have been stained by the fine droplets. Simon’s own matching coat was similarly unharmed. He was serving as Matthew’s best man.

“You have the crowns, right?” he asked James, referring to the flower crowns the grooms were exchanging in lieu of rings. “I don’t have ‘em, so they must be with you.”

“…Fuck.” James panicked for the first time in the whole three or so months they had been planning this. “I think I left them in the van _. Fuck.”_

“Alright…where’s the workshop? Any chance we can retrieve them in time?”

“In this traffic? It’s about half an hour away. Which means over an hour counting the journey back.”

“Bet I can cut that in half. What’s a speeding fine or two?”

“No. I refuse to let you miss any of this amazing day because of me. _I’ll_ get them.”

“At the pace you drive? They’ll be halfway through the vows before you’re halfway back.”

“Fuck, Simon.” He ran a hand through the hair he had thoroughly washed for the occasion. “I’ve done it. I’ve truly fucked up this time. Some best man I am.” He looked about as close to tears as Simon had ever seen him, which was a little frightening.

“Alright, look, there’s no need for more drama. We can…I don’t know, order something similar online. I’ll shell out for express delivery, no prob.”

“You don’t get it. Those were custom-made by John himself!” James continued to slide steadily into a wretched state.

“You guys need help with something?” asked Peter, looking very concerned. It was common knowledge that if James was freaking out, it meant the end of the world was nigh.

“No. Actually, we don’t.” Simon’s eyes were alight as he looked through his phone contacts.

James loosened his grip on his hair. “We don’t?”

“I’m calling in a favour from one of my regulars. Give me the location of your workshop.”

As James sent Simon the address, the person on the other end picked up. “Hey, El? I need to borrow one of your runners.”

~

Everyone But The Bridegrooms

1:45PM

 **Peter:** 15 mins to showtime!

 _[Picture attachment: a truly idyllic backyard garden dotted with bouquets of camellias and dark burgundy carnations]_

_[Picture attachment: scented candles in the midst of floral and succulent arrangements]_

_[Picture attachment: the exquisite wedding cake and succulent-topped cupcakes that match the theme of the overall décor]_

_[Picture attachment: table cards with names of the guests accompanied by small boxes holding customised tea bags]_

**Peter:** This wedding wins all the Instagram awards :D

“I dunno about the rest of you, but I’m getting emotional at the fact that we pulled all this shit together.” Simon’s eyes were shining.

“The place smells divine, too.” Peter inhaled deeply. “I don’t know what’s in those candles, but it’s good.

“I’m totally stealing some for my own house.” Mary looked up at the brightening sky. “Looks like the weather is finally on our side.”

James threw an arm around Jesus. “The cakes look amazing. John is gonna melt over those delicate succulents.”

“Thanks. I had nightmares about those falling apart for the past few days.”

Judas stuck his head out of the house where the laptop was plugged and connected to the speakers. “Does anyone know what the wedding song is?”

“For the exchanging vows bit?” Simon replied. “It’s either ‘Your Song’ by Elton John or Walking On Sunshine. I know Matt wanted both – one after the other.”

“Weird transition, but OK.”

Mary checked her watch. “Is anyone picking up the grooms, or did John splash on a limo or something?

“He definitely splashed on something. He has a rich favourite aunt who contributed quite a bit to our budget,” James said. “For all we know, he might arrive in a Cinderella carriage. A big gilded pumpkin.”

There was the sound of enthusiastic female voices from a stone’s throw away. Peter looked over to its source. “Hey, who are those five crazy-looking girls at the gate?”

Simon leapt up with a broad grin that bore a strong resemblance to the one worn by two of the young women waving madly as they led the gang in. Each of them was dressed in a different loud shade ranging from bright pink to chartreuse, and all had jaunty ribbon-laden top hats that were as coordinated as they were zany.

“Everyone, meet my older sisters,” he announced.

“Whatever possessed your parents to have you after all that?”

“Don’t be mean,” said Jesus to his boyfriend, biting back a smile.

“Valid question. I was a happy accident, is all I can say.” Simon’s arm encircled a petite girl dressed head to toe in electric blue. “Rachel, this is Jesus, and Judas.”

“Oh, you’re the disaster couple!” Rachel clearly shared her brother’s lack of filter. She sounded thrilled as she shook their hands, as if their history of breakups was some kind of achievement.

“You’re unfashionably early,” said Simon.

“Aren’t we always?”

“We thought our baby brother could use some help,” the one in chartreuse piped up.

“Actually, we’re all done. But you can always warm up the open bar. Get Mandy to make her famous margaritas.” His phone buzzed, and his grin grew wider. “Oh, thank fuck – he made it before the grooms did.”

“Who did?”

“The guy who most heroically retrieved the last missing item. Gimme a sec.”

A moment later, Simon was triumphantly holding up a box packed with crepe tissue. “By the grace of the capricious gods who have at last decided to bless this marriage, I present the all-important flower crowns!”

James kissed him on the cheek. “My reputation as best man has been saved!”

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s your corsage?” Simon indicated the one pinned to the lapel of his own jacket. “I swear, you’d forget your left nut if it wasn’t attached to your right.”

~

The 1-hour movie made of footage filmed by the very skilled videographer (paid for by John’s favourite aunt) captured every picturesque detail of the wedding. Short extracts from the film, along with endless photos, would populate John and Matthew’s Instagram feeds for weeks to come. Some of the exquisitely shot highlights included:

…The grooms arriving in a bright turquoise and silver Volkswagen Beetle, stepping out in their dapper complementing outfits and exchanging a giddy kiss before giggling like teenagers

…Matthew being greeted by Peter’s two moms with a hearty kiss on the cheek, both of whom look extremely chic (and who have already more or less adopted him as a second son)

…John and Simon’s sisters posing in front of the magnificent cake holding their champagne glasses, after he insisted they remove their hats so as not to overshadow it

…John embracing his two brothers and his dad, who is making a big show of totally not having any tears in his eyes (but who will later cry the hardest when the grooms exchange flower crowns)

…Mary and Peter feeding each other cupcakes, Simon photobombing the sweet moment by pouring pasta noodles into his gaping mouth in the background

…James’ 6-year-old sister clambering onto Jesus’ lap and proceeding to braid a lock of his hair as James grins while taking a string of pictures

…The husbands exchanging vows beneath the arch of the gazebo overhung with lush vines and pale wildflowers, flanked by Simon and James. Matthew starts sobbing midway through his, and suddenly there’s not a single tear-free person among the small cluster gathered before them. The camera catches Judas pretending, quite unconvincingly, that there’s something in his eye. The two best men are wiping their faces as they lead a toast to their friends.

As the two lovers step down from the gazebo, Mary swings a basket to rain pink and white petals upon them. John will later remark that he wishes his eyes weren’t puffy from crying during this breathtaking moment. Matthew will tell him that he’s being an idiot, and cut off his complaining with a kiss.

**THE DAY AFTER  
**

Meese, Geese and Cheese

12:45PM

 **Simon:** Does anyone have James, coz I don’t

 **Simon:** Also someone please turn off the sun

 **Jesus:** I can’t do anything about the sun. But James is underneath my coffee table.

 **Jesus:** And no, I don’t remember how he got there

 **Mary:** Is there anyone who isn’t hungover

 **James:** You, probably?

 **Simon:** Oh good you’re alive

 **Mary:** I’m /very/ hungover, actually

 **Matthew:** I feel kind of fine?

 **Simon:** Rude

 **Mary:** Peter is alive but incapable of moving his limbs at the moment

 **Mary:** He’s complaining about being weak, but I’m very sure he had an impressive amount. We inhaled like five shots in a row

 **Matthew:** And he did outlast John, who was the first to pass out.

 **Jesus:** Is he OK?

 **Matthew:** He’s fine, just sleeping it off. For another 2 hours probably.

 **Matthew:** Not that I mind; he’s adorable when asleep. Especially when he’s hugging his unicorn plushie.

 **Judas:** Spare us the details. I don’t need to throw up again

 **James:** Btw was I drunk or was Nate really there

 **Simon:** Oh yeah, he showed up some time after dark. He was the one who brought the sparklers.

 **Jesus:** I do have a vague memory of sparklers

 **James:** Just tell me I didn’t lick anything off his balls this time

_\- There is a collective groan that can be felt by everyone in the chat despite it not being audible. -_

_1:04PM_

**John:** I just woke up. Who licked what off whose balls…?

 **Simon:** I’m afraid it was you, John. Just before you blacked out.

 **John:** Wait. What??

 **John:** No, I just reread that, and it’s James who did the licking. Allegedly.

 **Simon:** He did, after you.

 **John:** Matt has assured me that you’re full of crap

 **Matthew:** But we still love you

_[Picture attachment: a selfie of the married couple making lovey-dovey eyes at the camera while hugging John’s unicorn plushie. Around their faces are scrawled in pale pink letters ‘SO F**KING MARRIED’, two heart emojis standing in as asterisks]_

**Judas:** Gross

 **John:** I’ll take that as a compliment. <3


End file.
